by Stacy Gail
At first he’d thought he was physically attracted to Becks because he knew so much about her. After he’d dragged her out of a burning, smoke-filled car that fateful night of House Of Payne’s launch party, he’d directed Scout to uncover everything about the woman he had inadvertently endangered, then saved. When Scout had come up with the name Rebecca Delgado, he’d then conducted his own investigation into who she was. He’d kept that a secret from his assistant, because he knew Scout too well. She wouldn’t have approved of his sense of obligation toward the bloodied, unconscious woman he’d pulled from the wreckage. Scout wouldn’t have understood the feeling of responsibility he felt then. And she sure as hell wouldn’t understand the deep connection he felt with Becks now.
Though he wouldn’t be able to blame Scout on that score. Not when that sense of connection was all on his side.
Payne’s mouth tightened in a self-deprecating grimace. What would Scout say if she knew that for four long years, he’d been dropping in on Becks’s online gallery to see what she was up to? When he’d first done it, he’d told himself he was merely interested in seeing how she was faring. But as time unfolded, checking in at her website had become a part of his daily routine, and he couldn’t count how many hours he’d spent studying her work. The vivid emotion in her creations and their exquisite perfection in both proportion and detail seeped into his mind’s eye, until he burned to know the woman behind the art. Eventually the idea of meeting her through their shared love of art evolved, and now that he’d made it happen, it was better than he had imagined.
At least, in some ways.
Their chemistry was off the charts. To make matters more interesting, she seemed to be as attracted as he was. Considering all the clear green lights he was getting from her, he normally wouldn’t have had a problem with diving into the nearest bed and going to town. But there was nothing normal going on here. Even before he’d met her face-to-face in this office, he’d known his relationship would be unique with this woman who seemed to speak to his soul. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known, so there was no way he could treat her like she didn’t matter.
Even if that was the way she treated him.
And there it was. The real reason he’d been walking around snapping people in half for a week now. He refused to be her casual fuck-buddy.
He almost snarled, furious at the ironic joke life had played on him. Being used for instant gratification had never bothered him before. Hell, before now he’d been the master of the come-quick, leave-quicker one night stand. Better yet, his opportunities for casual sex had grown along with his wealth and fame. He could have anyone he wanted, and no one was offended when he walked away. That was just how the game was played, and everyone understood the rules.
But there was no game when it came to Becks. She was different. Even before she’d come roaring into his office, he’d held her in a special place in his mind. So to have her treat him the same way he’d treated all those nameless women he’d screwed in his lifetime… huh-uh. No way. That wasn’t going to fly. She wanted to have sex? Come her brains out? Any guy—or barring that, any adult toy with batteries—could give her whatever momentary satisfaction she wanted. Maybe it was pride or arrogance, but he refused to accept that she had no other use for him than to get off. Never mind that pleasure-seeking had been the basis of every relationship he’d ever had and this turnabout was probably his punishment. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, he realized casual sex wasn’t good enough. He deserved better. And damn it, so did Becks.
However, facts were facts. If he didn’t find a way to get between her legs soon, all this altruistic bullshit wouldn’t mean a thing and he’d go right out of his fucking mind.
“Payne?”
By degrees, his attention drifted back to Scout. “What?”
If looks could kill, she would have been guilty of murder. It was a look no one else could have gotten away with without the threat of imminent destruction, or at the very least winding up with their ass out on the street. But she’d been with him since the time of trying to convince their good friend Frank Bournival to invest in building House Of Payne up from a dingy tattoo studio to the dream gallery it was today. “I said, offer the wench more money. Make her do what you want.”
“I can’t.”
“Didn’t you once tell me that the word ‘can’t’ isn’t in your vocabulary?”
“That’d be a one hell of an arrogant thing to say. So yeah, probably.”
“And I know for a fact you can always make women do what you want,” Scout added. “Even the ones who are no longer interested in your stud services, like me. It’s like your super-secret mutant power.”
For a moment he thought of Monique, Frank Bournival’s meth-head daughter and his long-ago ex. If he’d ever had the ability to make women do what he wanted, it sure as hell hadn’t worked on that tweaked-out psycho the night of the House’s launch party. “I only use my powers for good.”
“And it would be good for you to charm this artist into doing whatever you want.”
He scowled at her. “Has it occurred to you that you’re making me sound like a fucking manipulative asshole? When do I ever manipulate anyone?”
“You manipulated this Becks artist into coming to see you last week. The very action that plunged my life into phone hell, I might add.” She glanced at her watch, a huge, chunky thing that seemed to be strapped onto her wrist by vast amounts of marabou. “Before I forget, you’ve got an interview with Inkspot Magazine in an hour, and at five o’clock you’re online with Tribal Nation. They want a sound bite regarding 3D art and other industry trends for their webcast. Be witty and charming, or I’ll break your arm.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“Promise you won’t mention Missing Piece or its artist like you did this morning, please. Unless you want me to quit, which would leave you to run the business all by your little lonesome.”
Payne sighed. “I can promise approximately half of that. Will that work?”
“Depends. Which half are you talking about?”
“The world needs to know that House Of Payne now owns all the Becks 3D pieces currently in existence, and that her work is in the process of being converted into an exclusive line of body art. The artist’s name has to be publicized at every opportunity and basically made synonymous with House Of Payne.”
Scout’s expression remained less than impressed. “Okay, I guess. What about Missing Piece?”
“I’ll try my best to avoid talking about it. And if you quit, I give this place fifteen minutes before it’d go straight down the crapper.”
“Just as long as you’re aware of it.” With a long-suffering sigh, she headed for the door. “You have about an hour before the magazine guys get here, so why don’t I hold all calls while you try and take a nap?”
“A nap? What am I, a toddler?”
“No, but you look like you haven’t slept in days. It’s not good for our fearless leader to be in front of cameras looking like he’s on the verge of turning into a zombie.” She opened the door, only to hop back when Becks steamed through. He couldn’t blame Scout for getting out of the way. As kickass as his assistant was, she was still smart enough to not get flattened by a human tornado.
“We need to talk.” In a black patterned maxi skirt, a hint of a red shirt covered by a black jacket and her wavy hair left to run riot over her shoulders, Becks could have been mistaken for a carefree college kid. But her pained expression and red eyes belied that mirage, and without hesitation, he signaled Scout out of the office with a jerk of his head.
“Okay.” As soon as the door closed, Payne abandoned his place behind the desk to close his hands on Becks’s shoulders. Alarm zipped through him when he registered the tremors racking her body. As he guided their path to the low-slung leather couch, he searched her face for some kind of clue. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“I want to give you your money back.” The words tumbled from her colorless lip
s. She didn’t look his way, couldn’t even seem to hold her head up, as if something had come along and crushed her. “I’m sorry. I know this will be difficult for you to deal with, but… I’ve changed my mind. I can’t allow any of my art to be used by House Of Payne.”
Chapter Six
Why did life have to be so cruel? Becks had thought she understood the depths of its harshness, its utter lack of mercy. She’d believed that this bitterly attained knowledge had insulated her from taking on any more damage. But she’d been wrong. No matter how prepared she’d thought she was, it hadn’t made a difference. She couldn’t stop pain from barreling into her, just as she couldn’t stop herself from crumbling into bloody pieces when a new brand of punishment steamrolled through her isolated world.
And that was what this was. An unending punishment that she secretly believed she deserved. She was only sorry Payne was now caught up in it as well.
“Becks, I need you to talk to me.” He rubbed her back as if he somehow knew she was being crushed to death from the inside out. “Tell me what happened.”
“I’m sorry.” Oh, that phrase. She’d said it so many times in her life. Screamed it. Dreamed of it and woke with it falling from her lips as desperately as the scalding hot tears fell from her eyes. But those words were useless. They never made anything better. “I didn’t expect a problem to arise with the sale of my work, but… something’s come up. I have to try and make it better, if I can.”
“What? What came up?”
“My name.” She barely had the strength to push the words past the cage of her locked jaw. “I wasn’t expecting you to use my name. I don’t know why. You’re a talented and savvy businessman, a genius when it comes to branding and promoting House Of Payne. I just believed that somehow I would be left out of the spotlight.”
“I have to give credit where credit is due.” The hand at her back had switched to a soothing, circling rhythm that made her feel cared for, even cherished. She almost cringed away, because she knew something he didn’t—she wasn’t worthy of it. “Don’t you want that spotlight? Most artists do.”
“Most artists aren’t hated for existing.”
“Hated? Who hates you? Has someone threatened you?”
“If only it were that simple.” She couldn’t tell him why she was so hated. The shame choked off any explanation before she could even form the words. How could she tell him that her own parents saw her as nothing more than a murderer? Even now she could hear her father railing at her continued existence… If you hadn’t been born, none of this would have happened. Just looking at you, standing there, breathing while Justin is dead… I can’t stand it. You’re the one who should have died. You’re the one who should have died.
“Becks.”
Despair welled up like poison, and she closed her eyes against it. If only she could just as easily close off the agony festering inside. “I know this will sound incredibly flaky, Payne, but I need to know if there’s any way we can undo our business deal.”
“Not until I understand what’s upset you. Were you threatened? I can have a fleet of bodyguards—”
“No.” He couldn’t protect her. Not from something that had already happened. She opened her eyes and almost crumpled when she saw genuine concern in his eyes. How long had it been since someone other than Claire had worried about her? “I’m not being threatened. No one cares enough about me one way or the other to make threats. This is… something else.”
“I can take care of something else. I’ll be all over that something else and fuck it up until it begs for mercy.” He brushed a kiss against her temple, as if she were made of the finest, most fragile crystal. “You just have to tell me all about that something else, okay? You can tell me anything, and I’ll find a way to make it better.”
The promise filled her with such exquisite glowing warmth it almost hurt, and she wanted to hold onto it forever. But that warmth might leave if she trusted him with the darkest secret festering in the core of her soul.
The secret that she was responsible for her little brother’s death.
“Nothing you could say would surprise me, because I know you,” he went on when she struggled to find her voice. “I’ve seen your work. Your art is like bits and pieces of your soul, and what I see in you… my God, it’s incredible, Becks. I see your tremendous strength and heart-stopping fragility. I see beauty and grace and an almost painfully vivid appreciation of life. I also see a profound understanding of pain and yearning for things that are beyond your reach. All of this tells me that you feel things more deeply than most, because you can express it so freakin’ well. Unfortunately that means you can also be damaged more easily. That doesn’t make you weak,” he added, rubbing her back some more. “But it does put a target on you for all the bastards of the world who revel in stomping on a person’s vulnerabilities. So if something like this has happened, you need to tell me about it so I can make it go away.”
“You really mean it, don’t you?” Becks stared at him as her throat clenched so hard it was almost impossible to breathe. “You don’t even know me, yet you’re ready to jump in like Superman and save the day?”
“I told you, I do know you.” With an economy of movement, Payne pulled her onto his lap. For a moment she felt oddly cherished as he cradled her against him, almost as if he really did want to protect her from the world. It was an illusion, of course. Obviously she was desperate for any kind of human-to-human contact, but for the moment she couldn’t find the strength to reject the sensation. It wouldn’t hurt to pretend for a little while that he was someone who cared. “And for what it’s worth, I prefer Wolverine to Superman, but I’d look stupid with those freaky-ass sideburns of his.”
“You’re crazy.” A tidal wave of gratitude flooded through her until her eyes stung, and she looked away before he could see it. It changed nothing, of course. She still believed in her heart that the world would have been better off if she had been the one who had been killed in the accident instead of Justin. But Payne’s support was so unexpected, so beautiful, it flowed over her tattered soul like a salve. “You’re right. I do have someone in my life who knows exactly how to hit me where it hurts. He can cripple me without even trying.”
Something like a growl escaped him. “He? A boyfriend? An ex-boyfriend? I can take care of that.”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
She thought she heard him mutter, “Good,” before he rubbed her back again. “So who’s bothering you?”
“Someone I thought was out of my life forever. My father—or parents, I guess,” she amended when his brows rose. The image of her silent shade of a mother flitted through her mind, and it made her shake her head out of an old frustration. Janine Delgado had always been so absent when it came to supporting her that it was no wonder Becks had almost forgotten to include her. “They blame me for something that… that happened in the past that I couldn’t control. Something that can’t be undone.”
“Shit happens every day that’s beyond our control. Anyone trying to saddle you with blame just shows their own weakness when it comes to dealing with reality.”
“The reality that shit happens?”
“Don’t laugh. That motto’s one of our most popular tattoos,” came the drawling reply. “Look, I understand regret, Becks. I’ve got a few myself. But I also know that as much as anyone might want to turn back the clock and have a do-over, it’s a sucker’s wish. It drains the happiness out of the present by making a person focus on a past that’s already been written. The best thing anyone can do is accept what can’t be changed and make amends where you can.”
“There’s no way I can make amends,” she ground out between clenched teeth and stared down at her hands. “I… I tried. I tried to balance it all out. But I realize now that some things can never be balanced out. Over time I’ve finally come to accept that, just as I’ve come to accept I’ll never be forgiven.”
His brows came together. “What do you mean, you tried to balance
it all out?”
“Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I’ve ever wanted to die.” Though the cowardly part of her wanted nothing more than to hide her ugliness from him, her far more merciless side drove her to push up her sleeve. She wasn’t sure why it was so important for him to understand she had once been inexcusably weak. All she knew was that she had to show him the worst of her, so that he would know how unworthy she was. “It’s just that I didn’t want to live anymore.”
“Becks.” With something like horror, he took her arm and held it still for his examination. Puckered, purplish-pink scars that, over time, had turned white along the edges trailed from her wrist halfway up her forearm. “Jesus. Becks.”
“I thought at the time this would help.” All too clearly she recalled calling her parents’ number, trying yet again to explain that someone had dashed in front of the car to cause her to veer into a bridge abutment, that she wished she had died instead of Justin. But it was when her father had coldly suggested she should follow through with the idea of dying that the last flicker of hope had been brutally extinguished.
Hope was a funny thing. Once it died, it took everything with it.
Even the will to live.
“I swear you’re never going to know what it is to be that lost again.” He lowered his head, and to her surprise he brushed his mouth over the angriest-looking scar. That one had gone the deepest and done the most damage. The nerve leading to her ring finger would never be right again, and at the time she’d been so disabled she hadn’t been able to cut the other wrist. “How long ago?”
“Three years.” She had tried leaving life on the one-year anniversary of Justin’s death. If it hadn’t been for Claire coming to see how she was coping, she would have succeeded. Now, both Claire and Thomas had keys to her place and made sure that Becks was never alone when special dates on the calendar rolled around. “I won’t go back to that dark place, because I see now how weak that is. Death is a cop-out and one I refuse to take. Even if there are still times that I’m sorry I exist,” she added with a bitter sound that was almost a laugh. “Like today.”
